INDIAN TIME - Vol. 24 #12 - Ennisko:wa / March 30, 2006 Edition - Page 13

The author of this article has chosen to remain anonymous to protect the identities of others.

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When the Jet-Blue plane airlifted from Ottawa on March 18, 2005, it transported four inter-generational residential school survivors and me. The five of us, all from Akwesasne, were headed down the path of an unforgetable journey. Destination: Winnipeg, Manitoba.

I'm a Kanienkehaka from Kawehnoke. What I'm about to write is my story; that trip of self-discovery.

Eyaa-Keen means "Being Self" or "Being Natural" in the Ojibwa language. The Eyaa-Keen Centre, where we were headed, concentrates on healing wounded souls and returning people to the state of mind they were intended to have.

It has taken me a while to digest the knowledge and to comprehend what we learned at Eyaa-Keen. At first glance, it collided with my skepticism. This is part of the scars of childhood abuse. Distrust. At that particular time I wasn't exactly sure or clear either how I really felt or thought. I tried to keep my mind open, as suggested.

I was in counseling at the time for various issues and qualified when I was asked to join the others in the healing program. Being institutionalizedor placed in numerous foster homes on American soil, from age 9-21, I understood in many ways. Sex abuse wasn't an issue, but there were other harmful elements that severely damaged my self-esteem.

As we entered the steel-bird and left the earth behind, panic gripped my soul, because this was my first airline experience. Because of this fear of flying, I almost didn't make this flight, but was persuaded otherwise. So much for my superstition that I would die if ever I flew at this stage in life.

The stop-over in Toronto we would discover soon enough would be delayed. We had a stressful four-hour wait. Once again aboard the plane, as we floated up into the air, anxiety ran through my blood. "We're going to crash," I thought.

When we did arrive safely, we stayed overnight at the Place Riel Hotel, named after a famous Metis leader. The next morning the assigned driver picked us up and we made the final one and a half hour drive.

Just before we approached the rustic lodge, a breathtaking beauty unfolded before us: Tiny crystallized-like diamonds twinkling everywhere up on the three foot high snow. As we drove through the eco-friendly beautiful thick woodland pines, isolated from civilization, a serene atmosphere was imminent from outside interference. The final stretch of mind marathon...whew...came to a conclusion and the five day "Next Step" process series integrated holistic approach to wellness and changing the legacy of residential school began. Yikes! How am I to survive getting home?

Not much later, we ultimately reached our destination at Matheson Island Lodge. An appetizing late lunch was served to us and the other Native guests. The women served an abundance of succulent and healthy meals.

Our first evening began with a daily talking circle and smudging. Introductions were made and a brief note on what was to be expected in the days ahead. The importance of group participation, creating power and strength for a successful healing was expressed. These sessions were held five miles from where we stayed.

Mel (Ojibwa) and Shirley (Cree) Chartrand, Co-therapists/trainers, designed effective counseling sessions for residential school survivors to retain their mind, body and behaviors to handle their issues. Watching this couple, I was intrigued by their professional method of teaching, retraining, de-programming techniques. The co-therapists used a constant interplay of soft yet firm directness. They had hopes that we would grasp even a small way that we could take back and empower ourselves to make right decisions. They were always waiting on the sidelines if anyone needed extra guidance.

After a tense few days it became absolutely clear that I needed to do somethingand quit fighting with myself and really give an effort to trust a little. I finally took a risk and realized these instructors just might be giving us useful messages to help improve our lives. That's precisely how I proceeded. Gradually I let go and felt less tension and more confidence.

As we interacted daily it helped me to experience a way to think and surface my negative elements and trash them. For instance, as we lived in residential schools we were taught to feel ashamed about our identity as Onkwehonweh people and that our cultures and traditions were wrong and primitive. At the same time, demeaning names were hurled at us as children, most familiar were "you dirty Indian" or "the only good Indian is a dead Indian". Well, the offending Europeans did attempt to make us all good Indians. They didn't completely succeed in the Onkwehonweh genocide as planned.

Hence, we were also taught that you shouldn't know your culture. We were taught that other cultures and spiritualities were better. A lot of our problems are the direct results of assimilation.

Why yes! That brings me to one of the great culture shocks of my life. When the time for us to go into the sweat-lodge came, I was feeling apprehensive as I had no previous experience in a dome-shaped pitch dark sweat lodge. My way of thinking took over. "This is evil", I thought. "It's against my religion." I tried my best to get out of this activity. I confronted one of the clan mothers to explain that I had asthma and I can't tolerate smoke. Besides, I was a bit fearful of confined places. The clan mother reassured me that I would be just fine and the storyteller would walk us through what to expect.

It is like a rebirth, the storyteller relayed to us. Back into your mother's womb. Great! Who wants to go back into their mother's womb? He went on to say that we should think happy thoughts. Thus, I expanded my mind, dared to step bravely into my borrowed culture. Other Nations have slight different version of sweats, but basically they're all the same, the storyteller said.

The hot rocks spewed steam, not smoke as I had imagined. When the pine leaves hit the grandfather rocks (they are called this because they are so old) a pleasant fragrance lingered in the air and actually cleared my lungs. I was able to breathe much easier for several months later on. And there was no bogeyman in there. Maybe this is not for everyone, but it worked fine for me and I had a serene spiritual experience.

Gathering around the talking circle one more time, an enlightening experience unexpectedly amplified before me. In this circle, a young was extremely shy and appeared to display a crushed self-esteem, and who had sat quietly throughout these sessions, managed to muster courage within himself and trusted to share a piece of his soul. To see this Onkwehonwe bloom like a flower and a glowing smile emerge on his face touched my heart. I could identify with this man, for at one time I too was in this painful position. I felt his exuberance and that freedom one receives in a gentle spiritual healing. He strutted out of there like a proud colorful fanned peacock, knowing he had unearthed a buried treasure of his cultural identity and self-worth.

Coming to near completion of my experiences at Eyaa-Keen, I'd learned to identify problems and opportunities and just go for it. For example, after my return trip I answered a sales representative ad from a local paper. Not being experienced in this line of work, I figured it can't be that much different from selling Avon or jewelry products, etc. I stayed at this job for one and a half years, until a highway accident totalled my 1999 Mercury.

I'm currently laying more groundwork to achieve a fuller life. My long-term goal is to be a writer. Meeting life's challenges - most recently I've had to deal with a painful separation from my grandkids and working towards reuniting with them - and taking strides towards sustainability in my time here on Mother Earth is a challenging task of communicating with people and reach out for help. A case in point: I don't cling to anger very long anymore. This causes many illnesses, I've been informed. So, I'll write down my feelings or talk to someone I trust until the resentments subside.

Another knowledge gathering I've discovered is that a large number of the distorting views of sweat lodges came from offending institutions. They taught that such activities were pagan or heathen practices. Governments did its part by actually making it illegal to practice this and other customs. In fact, it is the very customs and practices that were banned, condemned, or made illegal that have the potential to bring about the healings for residential school survivors and their children.

Meanwhile, more survivors to date choose to identify themselves. At the same time, adequate services and resources are needed. Most of the resources and services that are out there are not "user-friendly". They aren't qualified to deal with the many issues survivors have.